


Melt

by Lenore



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Cabin Fic, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan tangles with a Troubled person who turns people to ice with her touch. Duke is the only thing keeping him from freezing to death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elynross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynross/gifts).



> Thanks, elynross, for all you do to make Yuletide happen. Much appreciation to no_detective for beta reading.

In retrospect, Nathan really should have called in for backup.

The white mist swirls around him, blinding, all-encompassing. Icicles form in his hair, and he can see his hands turning blue—bluer than a human being should be. The saving grace is that he doesn't feel any of it, and it'll be over soon. Regret is a tight, cramped sensation beneath his ribs. He thinks of Audrey and then also of Duke, which doesn't surprise him maybe as much as it should. The last thing he sees—or maybe he just imagines it—are Duke's eyes, not their usual deep brown, but as silver as the ice that's stealing Nathan's warmth.

* * *

He wakes up feeling numb, not his body, because that's been a mystery since the Troubles started up again, but his brain, sluggish and far away. His vision isn't exactly cooperating, either. He has no idea where he is or how he got here. For a moment, he wonders if he's dead—and feels disappointed that the after life is so hopelessly mundane—but then awareness returns in a rush, and he remembers that there are things that matter more to him than his own life and death.

"Audrey," he croaks, trying to sit up. Or, at least, he _wants_ to sit up, but his muscles don't seem to care. Also, there are arms around him—very strong arms—keeping him from going anywhere.

A voice rumbles in his ear, "She was too smart to go off on her own without telling anyone. So, yeah, she's fine."

Duke. Now Nathan is really confused. His confusion ratchets up times infinity when his eyesight fritzes back into working order, and he realizes that Duke's chest is bare and very probably the rest of him is too. If he knows Duke, and he does all too well, this is not a one-sided nakedness thing, which means that Nathan—okay, his muscles really are going to have to do what he tells them, because he's not sticking around for the mutual nakedness. 

Duke tightens his hold. "Stop it."

Naturally, this only makes Nathan more determined.

"I'm fucking serious." Duke sounds it too, not even a hint of his usual glibness. "Any other time you want to brush me off when I'm trying to help you, fine. But right now, I'm the only thing keeping you from freezing to death, so you don't get a vote."

Nathan doesn't give in because Duke tells him to—he wants that noted for the record. Just suddenly all the strength goes out of him. He doesn't feel like he's freezing to death, but his body has this instinct to burrow into Duke, to get as close as he can. 

"Go to sleep, Nathan," Duke says gruffly. 

But the way he tucks Nathan's head beneath his chin isn't gruff at all.

* * *

Nathan isn't looking for the garden; he just stumbles across it. The stone wall is high, meant to keep people out, and that makes him want to go inside. When he finds the door, it feels like an invitation. There are neat planting beds and perennials, and he follows the rows of flowers, disappointed, wondering if this is all there is. 

Around a corner, he comes to the first sculpture, frosty and glinting in the soft, late-day sun. It's not still and serene the way statues look in museums, but caught, trapped, a torsion of limbs, eyes wide and shocked, mouth open but not able to scream. 

There's another one and another one, and he feels the need to follow the chain to its logical conclusion. The air thickens, swirling white as he goes, the grass turned to ice, each step more difficult than the last, but he can't stop. He has to make it to the end. 

When he gets there at last, he's blue and covered in icicles, and he finds Duke waiting, the only thing in the garden not frozen, arms crossed over his chest. "Seriously, Nathan?"

* * *

Nathan startles awake, and it's instinct to follow that momentum and try to sit up.

An arm falls across his chest, pressing him back down. "Hey, you need to rest."

Duke is only a pillow's distance away, so Nathan doesn't have far to direct his glare.

"You may not be able to feel how weak you are," Duke says, in the slow, infuriating way that people talk to children. "Or how your body is still all—" He waves his hand. "Trembly and stuff. But I can feel it, so you're not going anywhere. Not that there's anywhere to go. Our latest little foray into the dangerous and unexplainable has left three feet of snow piled up outside. We're stuck here until more of it melts. That's assuming our cars haven't turned into icebergs."

"We could hike out."

Duke eyes him skeptically. "I seriously doubt you can stand up. Also, it's the middle of nowhere. This cabin is the only thing for miles. We were lucky to find it." 

Nathan sinks back against the pillow. He refuses to give Duke the satisfaction of admitting he's right, but, yeah, he's not up to going anywhere. He crooks his arm over his face, and the statues from his dream float up from some distant pool in his subconscious. The faces slowly slip into focus, and then he remembers. Not a dream. 

Her name was Janet Avery. One moment she was an ordinary woman and the next a human glacier who froze people with her touch. A concerned neighbor called the cops when snow started piling up on the Avery's lawn—a freak occurrence even in Maine in July. Nathan and Audrey responded, picking their way up the front walk, slipping and nearly falling on the treacherous steps. Inside, their flashlight beams glinted off the ice-covered wallpaper, the frost-dusted furniture.

In the kitchen, they found Janet's daughter, twelve-year-old Allison, sitting at the kitchen table where she'd been doing her homework, impossibly still, as if she'd never seen it coming. 

Nathan doesn't know if Janet panicked, or she didn't understand that she was the one with the Trouble, or maybe she just didn't care after what happened to her daughter. But she left a trail of frozen bodies in her wake.

He and Audrey split up to look for her. He found her. 

Apparently, he says this out loud, because Duke nods. "Yeah. And we see how well that worked out."

"What are you even doing here?"

Duke shrugs. "Just happened to be in the area."

"You said it's the middle of nowhere." There's silence, and Nathan sorts that out. "You came looking for me." 

"Don't let it go to your head. Audrey had a list of places where she thought you might have gone. She couldn't check them all by herself."

Pictures flash through Nathan's head, more memories, the silver of Duke's eyes and the way he'd charged at Janet Avery when she wouldn't let go of Nathan. His skin started to turn blue just like Nathan's, and there was frost in his hair catching the light, and then something else was glinting too. It takes Nathan a moment to realize that it was a knife.

"You—"

Duke's expression shutters closed. "Yeah. You can tell me what a power-crazed, bloodthirsty killer I am later. Right now it's nap time."

Nathan wants to make a face at Duke for treating him like a child, wants to tell him not to be so sure he knows what Nathan is thinking, but he's too tired. His thoughts go fuzzy at the edges, and then he's drifting off.

* * *

He's alone in bed when he wakes up the next time. Duke hasn't gone far, crouched down by the hearth, coaxing a fire to life. He's pulled on his pants, and the rest of their clothes have been hung up to dry. Nathan is wondering where the wood came from when Duke answers the question for him. "We're going to owe whoever owns this cabin some new furniture." He feeds what looks like a table leg onto the blaze.

"We?" Nathan asks dryly.

Duke tilts his head at Nathan. "Somebody's feeling better."

There's no comfortable way to say what needs to be said, but Nathan's not going to be a coward about it. "Thanks." It comes out stiffly. "For—you know."

Duke shrugs. "Hey, we can't have you kicking off before you finally get around to declaring your undying devotion to Audrey." 

Nathan narrows his eyes at Duke and thinks about saying he's not the only one with something to tell Audrey, but then another memory comes splashing up: the look on Duke's face when he killed Janet, determination tinged with regret, a man doing what he has to do because there's no other way. Nathan's seen that look in the mirror a time or two. 

It's a hard thing to live with, and Nathan can't figure any angle on it. Not that he can always figure Duke's angles. But with the Troubles—there's really nothing to gain from being on the front lines except for nightmares. _You seriously need to get over this problem you have with Duke_ , Audrey had said just the other day, not for the first time. _People grow up. They change. You're going to wish you'd given him a chance when—_

She'd actually clapped her hand over her mouth, which would have been funny coming from Audrey if she hadn't been about to say _when I'm gone_. 

Duke must misinterpret Nathan's sudden turn of expression because he lets out a heavy breath. "Right. So, it's later. You ready to give me the 'Duke, you're a cold-blooded killer' speech?"

Nathan looks up at the ceiling and thinks about it and finds that, no, he doesn't want to do that at all. "I keep picturing Janet's daughter. Allison. She was studying for a geometry test. There was a plate of brownies on the table. Her mother had made them for her." He swallows around the lump in his throat; his soft spot for kids is less of a spot and more of an all over kind of thing. "At least nobody else in their family will ever do that to somebody they love."

Duke shakes his head. "Don't, Nathan. Don't make me out to be noble. I didn't put a knife between that woman's ribs for the good of her progeny."

"No." Nathan's voice goes rough. "You did it for me."

There's a long unsettled moment of silence. "Yeah, well, I don't like people trying to deep-freeze my frenemies. It's a—thing."

Duke stirs the fire with the poker, making the muscles ripple in his arms and across his back. Nathan doesn't want to watch that and feel what might be warmth settling into his stomach, but an appreciation for Duke's body isn't anything new, and he doubts it's going to go away anytime soon. 

Maybe Audrey's right. Maybe Duke has changed. It's just hard to take a chance on that when Nathan wants it to be true so much.

 _When have you ever doubted Audrey's judgment about people? How many times has she been wrong?_ a voice pipes up in his head. The firelight casts Duke's body into planes and shadows, and it's ironic, really, that Nathan was naked in bed with him and doesn't remember much of anything about it. 

"Come over here," he says finally, because there are only so many years of looking and wanting and hating himself for it that even he can stand.

Duke darts a look over his shoulder, a confused pinch between his eyebrows, and he stubbornly stays put. 

Nathan insists, "I'm cold." It's probably even true. He can see goose flesh on his arms. 

"And let's not forget demanding." Duke's mouth quirks up wryly.

Nathan levels a look at him. "Are you going to warm me up or not?"

Duke rolls his eyes, but he gets up and comes over to the bed and starts to get in. 

"It works better without those." Nathan nods at Duke's pants. 

Duke's eyebrows shoot all the way up to his hairline. "Did you suffer brain damage?"

"Are you going to shut up and get in bed?"

Duke tilts his head, considering Nathan. "Well, you do _sound_ like you."

"Duke."

He lets out a big sigh. "Okay, fine. But I plan to remind you later when you're accusing me of—whatever, that this was all your idea." He kicks off his pants and slides beneath the covers and presses against Nathan's side. "Happy now?"

Nathan shakes his head. "My back's cold." 

"Okay, one? You don't actually know that. And two, I was kidding before about the brain damage, but now I'm starting to think maybe—" Nathan gives him a hard look. "Fine." He curves his arm around Nathan. " _Now_ are you happy?"

Nathan drapes his leg over Duke's, pulling him closer. 

Duke stares at him. "Do you actually know what you're doing? Because I don't know what you're doing. And, frankly, if you don't want me to kiss you, you should probably stop."

"If I didn’t want it, you wouldn't be this close."

Duke rolls his eyes. "I was this close all last night—"

Nathan grips Duke's jaw and kisses him. Duke sputters for a moment and then goes with it, because he's— _Duke_. 

"Nathan." It's soft with surprise, and Nathan may not be able to feel Duke's mouth or his body, but he can feel that. 

Duke makes a satisfied hum and pushes Nathan onto his back and starts to kiss down his chest, a final destination very clearly in mind. If things were different, that would be—but Nathan has to play the hand he's been dealt. He stops Duke, squeezing his shoulder. "Up here."

The look of absolute bewilderment on Duke's face that any man would say no to a blowjob makes Nathan snort out of a laugh. Duke shakes his head, smiling. "I always knew you'd be bossy in bed." But he does what Nathan wants, sliding up his body, pressing him into the mattress. 

Nathan doesn't feel that exactly, but Duke's weight, his closeness—Nathan's brain can work with that. He gets the sudden, vague sense of being off kilter, and he knows that it's arousal. He grips Duke by the shoulders, pulling him closer.

Duke gives Nathan a look, a little uncertain. "Is this—can you—" 

Nathan puts both of his hands in Duke's hair and kisses him. Duke moans and kisses back, hungry and pleased, stroking his hands down Nathan's arms, rutting against him. 

Sex is mostly in the brain, and Nathan imagines what he can't feel, the texture of Duke's hair slipping through his fingers, the coiled strength in Duke's muscles as he runs his hands down his back. There are other things that he doesn't have to imagine. The way Duke laughs and says, low and flirty, "I always knew you were dirty," when Nathan squeezes his ass. The way Duke can't seem to stop saying Nathan's name. The focused, unexpectedly tender way he strokes Nathan's chest. The spare, strained look of want on his face as he moves against Nathan's body. 

Nathan concentrates on the elusive threads of arousal, the sense of rushing forward until he's balanced on a fine edge. He presses his face to Duke's throat.

"Come on, Nathan," Duke says, rough and breathless, shoving their bodies together desperately. 

It feels like falling, spiraling away into nothing. When he floats back to awareness, Duke is flopped on top of him, as if he has no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. Nathan runs his fingers up Duke's back, trying to imagine heat and strength and the slickness of sweat. 

Eventually, Duke does actually move, shifting onto his side, watching Nathan, warily at first and then with a quizzical pinch between his eyes.

"What?" Nathan asks.

Duke shrugs. "I just thought there'd be more awkwardness."

The word is still hanging in the air when the door bangs open, and Audrey rushes inside, because of course she managed to track them down. She's Audrey. She skids to a stop, and her eyes go comically large. Reactions flit across her face—surprise and maybe a little jealousy and then she just looks really, really glad. 

If people were placing bets on who'd be the tense one in this situation, no doubt Nathan would win by a landslide, but it's Duke who quickly jerks away, putting distance between them. "Ah, the cavalry." He grabs his pants and pulls them on, strides over the fireplace and throws Nathan his clothes, careful not to meet his eye.

Audrey slants a look at Nathan that asks: _Is this going to be a problem?_ He shrugs. It's not a problem as far as he's concerned. 

"Did you do his laundry too?" Audrey asks Duke, teasing, trying to lighten the mood.

Duke stills and gives her a searching look before slowly smiling. "Nah. Just hung it by the fire to dry." He tilts his head toward Nathan. "I like her better."

Nathan gives him a little smile. "No, you don't."

Duke just stares, as if he has no idea who Nathan is anymore. "No, I don't," he agrees.

Audrey nods in approval, as if they're children who have finally learned how to play nice. "What about Janet?"

Duke's jaw clenches, and he looks away.

"Duke saved my life," Nathan says quietly.

Understanding lights Audrey's face, and she nods in acknowledgment, her expression very serious. She steps over to Duke and rises up on her toes and kisses his cheek. "Thank you for taking care of Nathan."

Duke still won't meet her eye, so she lays her hand on his arm and doesn't let go. Nathan manages to get himself dressed, although his hands seem to have forgotten what the words "fine motor control" mean. He throws back the blankets and lurches to his feet.

"Yeah, he's going to need some help with that," Duke tells Audrey.

"I'm fine," Nathan insists.

Audrey catches him just before he pitches over.

Duke's grin has a certain _I told you so_ look to it as he moves to Nathan's side to help Audrey prop him up. 

Nathan has mostly gotten used to being able to feel Audrey, although it does still give him a little thrill, but he definitely isn't expecting her touch to open him up to Duke's. He can't keep from sucking in a loud, obvious breath, sensation arcing through him, as if Audrey and Duke are magnetic poles and he's the electric charge between them.

Duke freezes, forehead pinched with concern, but then Nathan leans into him, into the weight of Duke's hand on his shoulder, that he can _feel_ , God. Duke's expression breaks open with understanding. He holds onto Nathan tighter, and Audrey doesn't let go, and Nathan doesn't even mind that he's now way too aware of how absolutely crappy he feels. It's completely worth it.

"Come on," he says, smiling a little. "Let's get out of here."

"The question is, where to now?" Duke says, low and more than a little suggestive.

Audrey smiles. "I'm sure we'll figure something out." 

They step outside. The ground is soggy, and melting snow still remains in places, but the sun gleams in the blue dazzle of the midday sky. Nathan can feel the heavy press of July heat on his skin. The cold seems very far away.


End file.
